The Libertine
by Zara123
Summary: When they were thirteen, everything changed. She was Lady Blair Waldorf: pristine, regal, perfect. Meanwhile, Chuck had become something of a...libertine. C/B.
1. Chapter 1

**The Libertine (Historical)**

**Author: **Zara

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **When they were thirteen, everything changed. She was Lady Blair Waldorf (pristine, regal, perfect). Meanwhile, Chuck had become something of a...libertine.

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**Chapter One**

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At nineteen, Lady Blair Waldorf had wed.

There.

It was done.

From now on, she would be known as Lady Blair...Bass -- wife of Lord Charles Bass, Earl of Westbury. It had been an arranged marriage. But one she had agreed to nevertheless. Charles – Chuck – had been watching her with hungry eyes throughout the wedding ceremony. It was unsettling, yet...it aroused something in her. This feeling frightened and..._excited_ her – all at the same time. It was confusing, to say the least.

She sat on _their _bed, still wearing her wedding gown. Her hair was piled on top of her head, held together by various pins and clasps. She was cold, nervous…

– anticipating.

Blair Waldorf had known Charles Bass, son of Bartholomew and Evelyn, her entire life. They had been childhood friends, after all.

Scheming partners. Allies. Loyal confidantes.

But when they were thirteen...everything changed.

She was Lady Blair Waldorf (pristine, regal, perfect). Meanwhile, Chuck had become something of a...libertine. She remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between Chuck and good friend Nathaniel Archibald once. It was when they were fourteen. Chuck had been bragging to Nate about one of his conquests. He had described it as a wondrous experience – the rush of another woman's skin, her legs, his hands, the thrashing and the…

Blair shook her head. She would not – could not think about that right now. Although, she could not help but remember how flushed she became after hearing Chuck recount his tale to Nathaniel. Part of her...well...wished...that she...

No.

Eleanor had told her it was simply a wifely duty – one of the first wifely duties she would have to perform. It was an obligation – nothing more (men enjoyed it more than women). And she was prepared. Lady Blair Waldorf would make the best wife in all of London high society (even if it was to the likes of one Chuck Bass).

Suddenly, the door clicked and Blair stood up straighter at the sound. She suddenly felt the weight of the corset she had on, constricting her ribs. It was this marriage – this trap…

She gulped when the door opened.

Lord Charles Bass stood in the threshold in all his glory. He was tall, lithe…she knew he had to be big…

Slowly, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Her heart was hammering her chest. She had lit candles around the room, casting a dim, almost romantic glow upon their frames. He silently appraised the room before his eyes finally landed on her. Their gazes locked and Blair felt like she couldn't breathe. He was watching her so intently. It was not the predatory look he had given her earlier. It was passion, desire...fondness, perhaps?

"Chuck," she whispered, overwhelmed by the moment. She suddenly remembered he was a lord. Chuck was...too familiar. They had _just_ wed. "My lord."

"No." He licked his lips. "Call me Chuck. It sounds...better coming from your lips."

She merely nodded. She was so flushed from the heat of his gaze that words escaped her.

He stalked towards her, achingly slow. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. Each step – seconds ticked by...

"Chuck."

Then suddenly he was _on_ her. Her back hit the mattress as Chuck positioned himself on top of her. He was licking -- sucking and biting her neck as one hand massaged her hip. All the air in her lungs whooshed out of her at the sudden intimate contact.

It should not have affected her like this. She should have been disgusted. It was a task – just a wifely task.

But it was surprisingly...pleasant too.

To her annoyance, he pulled away and looked down at her – eyes searching.

"Tell me Blair...have you ever been kissed?" he asked. "Have you ever felt another man's desire on your lips?"

There had been a peck on the cheek from Nathaniel when they were eight. Her best friend Serena van der Woodsen showered her with kisses all the time. Her mother's were more forced…

She opened her mouth to explain when suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her, sliding his tongue swiftly inside her mouth. She felt…burning, warm fire inside her. She moaned deep in her throat when his tongue touched hers – slick and hot and stroking.

_Oh God_...

Her eyes slid shut, feeling his tongue against hers – wet and gentle and exploring.

– Her first kiss.

"Spread your legs for me, Blair," he whispered against her mouth.

She did as she was told, the skirt of her dress riding up as Chuck settled between her legs. He grasped her thighs, opening her legs wider for him. She gasped when she felt his heat against her own over their clothing. She suddenly felt so very exposed and vulnerable.

"M-my lord," she stammered.

He smirked and kissed her again. But this time it was hot and insistent -- not gentle and soft like before. His tongue immediately found hers and Blair found herself responding to the kiss. He moaned hungrily, grasping her shoulders possessively and pressing himself closer to her. She squirmed against him, her hands clutching his hair as soft moans matched his.

His hands stroked her sides, skimming her stomach and breasts. Without breaking contact, he quickly shed his overcoat and vest. Then his hands were sliding under her dress...She moaned louder. When he found her stockings, he pulled the garment off of her. His hands reached for her panties next and her breath hitched.

She had never been touched _there_ before – let alone any of the other places Chuck had been…exploring just a moment ago. She was at a loss for words…

Blair opened her eyes and found he was already watching her, a deep – passionate look on his face.

"Do you remember the summer we were fifteen?" He was a hairsbreadth away, nose brushing hers.

She could only manage a nod. Of course she remembered. It was the summer all four of them – Blair, Serena, Nate, and Chuck – had stayed at her father's French villa.

"You were engaged to Nathaniel Archibald."

For two years, Blair thought to herself. It didn't sit well with her father who thought fifteen too young. Eleanor thought otherwise.

"Even then, I…adored you." His breath tickled her lips. Was this a…proclamation? Blair felt like she could just…die – right then and there. He was physically and emotionally killing her – in the best possible way.

"I didn't want him to have you," he confessed. She felt his fingers dance along her underwear.

She breathed out, face burning with anticipation. All the blood had left her brain and all she could think about – all she saw was Chuck Bass. Her husband. Her friend. Her _lover_.

God, she was pulsing with desire. How could one man elicit such profound, deeply agonizing pleasure within her?

"I wanted you – so badly." She tried to control her ragged breathing and the thumping in her chest.

"When you were out with Nathaniel…" He slid her panties off of her. "I snuck into your room one night." Blair sucked in a breath. He had invaded her privacy all those years ago…She should be angry…oh, but his fingers were tracing her leg – massaging her inner thigh…

"How dare you?" she choked out, none of the fervor in her words.

He smiled and kissed her, his tongue stroking hers for a brief second. "There was a picture of you on the nightstand, next to your hairbrush," he continued. "You were beautiful – _are_ beautiful." Her heart thumped. "I took that picture…and I pleasured myself with it – hours, Blair." She gasped, both at the newfound knowledge and at his fingers, which were pleasuring _her_ right there.

She was wet and so…warm. Blair flushed – this did not constitute as very lady-like behavior, she was sure of that. And then two of his fingers were _inside _her and she cried out – needy and wanton. He started moving his fingers, pumping her, and her cries became louder and needier. She pulled at Chuck's hair, clawing at him like a mewling kitten.

Then he…stopped. And Blair was left panting. When she looked up, she was startled from the look in Chuck's eyes. They had blackened with desire and there was a renewed sparkle in his eyes.

Her hands slid from his face and she stroked his cheek. "Chuck," she whispered when she found her voice, a mixture of curiosity and wonder.

"I love it when you say my name," he told her.

His hand slid out from under her dress and traced her lips with his finger. "As my wife, you'll have everything you've ever desired. I promise you that."

She didn't know how to respond to those words. Since the engagement, they'd hardly spoken. Most of their communication was filtered between their parents – who were too busy with the preparations. So Blair was left to agonize over their impending wedding date by herself. She had agreed but it still didn't sit well with her…Chuck Bass was a notorious womanizer and a philanderer.

But this Chuck Bass was attentive and soft and gentle with her.

Blair pulled his face towards her and captured his lips. Her kiss was earnest as she coaxed his mouth open, her small tongue teasing his. He groaned as her fingers pulled at his tie. She reached for the strings at the back of her dress, struggling to grab them.

"Help me," she whimpered.

She sat up so he could undo the strings. His hand caressed her bare back before helping her arms out of the sleeves. He tugged the material down to reveal her corset. Her breasts were nearly spilling out, heaving with lust. He took that off as well, leaving Blair in nothing but the skirt of her dress – half falling off of her. She had worn entirely too much clothing for this wedding, Blair decided.

Chuck was staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Self-consciously Blair moved to cover her chest but he quickly grabbed her hand. He laced their fingers and kissed the knuckles, pressed her hand against the bed.

"Gorgeous," he breathed out, his eyes hungrily taking in her body.

She was naked.

She had never been _this_ naked – before anyone – let alone another man.

But…no man had ever looked at her that way and Blair flushed all over again. It was enough to swear off clothes forever. His mouth pressed against one of her breasts, his hand fondling the other. She felt his tongue – licking and sucking and tugging her nipple. She moaned out, crying out Chuck's name over and over…clutching him to her. She squirmed against him, moving her legs. She was hot – so hot and she couldn't stay still. She needed to always be moving – moving _against_ him.

"Fuck, Blair," he choked out.

He threw her dress on the floor so she was completely nude. Her skin was soft, velvety to the touch. She shivered from the sudden onslaught of cold and he pulled her closer, warming her. He hooked her right leg over his hip as she helped him take off his shirt. Blair looked up at him in amazement, her finger skimming over his chest. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes when she ran her hand over his stomach.

Next, he tugged his trousers down. She felt him between her thighs, pressing against her. She whimpered softly.

He paused suddenly, pressing his forehead against hers – meeting her eyes. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

She stroked his hair, leaning up to kiss him before smiling shyly at him. In a bold move neither of them had anticipated, she snaked her hand between them and stroked his length in one, agonizing slow movement.

There was her answer.

She threw her head back, eyes closed, when he assaulted her breasts for the second time. He trailed kisses up her neck – licking and sucking – tugging on her earlobe. Their lips met and his tongue slid into her mouth.

And then…_he_ slid _inside_ her.

She was spread underneath Chuck Bass, arm encircling his neck and he was…_inside_ her. The world stopped spinning for a moment and she taken aback by the moment. First, she whimpered from discomfort, tears piercing through her closed eyelids. She clutched onto him as he pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Are you alright?" His voice was hoarse – soft and rich in her ears.

She nodded, opening her eyes to look up at him.

And then he started moving inside her, gently and slow. And when she became comfortable in his experienced hands and her body relaxed, he quickened his pace. And the world stopped spinning and Lady Blair Bass found a moment of clarity.

Beautiful.

He was perfect and beautiful – flawed and conflicted. _They _were beautiful and flawed. And they fit.

He thrust into her and her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the sensation. She felt him explode inside her as he repeated the pounding motion. They cried each other's names out – grasping, stroking – lifting. But it fit. It made _sense_.

She writhed against him, meeting his thrusts. Her thighs spread further, stretching – allowing him to sink deeper inside her. She purred in his ear, moaning and whimpering as she rode out each wave rippling through her. And the way he cried out her name with each thrust…

Never again would she be able to hear her name without thinking of this very moment.

When they were done, she lay spent – on her side facing him. They were panting, breathing deeply each other's scents.

At nineteen, Lady Blair Waldorf had wed.

At nineteen, Lady Blair Bass had lost her virginity to one royal devil-in-disguise.

He fell asleep beside her and she took the opportunity to study him for the first time. She traced his brow with a finger, down the bridge of his nose, and then his lips. She watched him until she fell asleep herself. And one thing remained certain in her mind – she was falling and she was deathly afraid of not landing on her feet.

---

**A/N:** My first "story" (mostly smut, haha). It's a one-shot but I might do I series depending on people's feedback. I don't know that much about the Victorian era, to be honest. I did do a little research but I'm betting I will get a lot of things wrong if I write a series, LOL. Not saying I won't write one, though. And since this is my first CB story, I hope people go easy on me (hint hint). I don't have a lot of experience writing sex scenes but I figured I'd try my hand at one anyway. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When she awoke, she was (very) consciously aware of the state of her undress. She was turned on her stomach, sheets reaching her waist – back exposed. It was enough to fumble stupidly for the sheets to cover her nude body until she reminded herself that she was _no longer_ the blushing virgin.

Calmly, Blair yawned and rubbed her eyes to clear her vision only to find the spot next to her empty – _bare_. She frowned and quickly sat up to inspect the room.

He was gone.

He had _abandoned_ her.

She gritted her teeth.

She supposed now that he had finally gotten what he wanted from her, they would go back to ignoring each other – just like when they had been engaged. She had been a fool last night to think otherwise. Chuck Bass had always been an arrogant womanizer. Why should he be any different now? Why should he treat _her_ any differently?

He was a husband. She was a wife.

Their lovemaking last night meant…nothing.

And aside from the signing of marriage documents, nothing would change.

Except for one thing of course – her living arrangements.

From now on she would sleep in the same bedroom – _bed_ – as Chuck Bass. If she had it her way, though, she would never see the notorious bastard again. But now that she was Lady Westbury, wife of one Lord Westbury, she had responsibilities – duties to uphold.

Who cared if was gone?

Fuming, she bundled up the sheets around her, covering her nude body as she got down on her feet.

Last night had been her first time (in many ways). He had been gentle, patient – even romantic with her. It was everything she could have hoped for and she was grateful to him for that much. She had heard stories about husbands forcing themselves upon their wives against their will. They were brutish – too rough. Eleanor had very subtly hinted for her to expect the worst. But…as far as Blair was concerned, last night had been…perfect.

The morning after, on the other hand, was less than so.

Perhaps she was expecting too much.

She was just a wife to him – nothing more. And he was a busy man, working hard to prove himself to his father. Bartholomew Bass was a wealthy, if not the wealthiest, man in all of Great Britain. With wealth, came ambition – a trait both father and son shared. It was why Eleanor was so thrilled with the engagement. Unlike "that Vanderbilt boy," the Bass' were wealthier, more powerful. They didn't have political connections but at least they had mystique.

The door suddenly swung open just as Blair reached down for a discarded piece of clothing from last night. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound, clutching the sheets tighter to her body.

"My lady!" yelped the maid who had come barging in. The young girl quickly placed her hands over her eyes, sputtering apology after apology. "I'm so sorry, Lady Westbury. I didn't realize – that is I didn't – I thought you had gone out I – please forgive me I –"

Realizing it wasn't Chuck, Blair calmed down considerably and rolled her eyes at the girl. "All is forgiven as soon as you learn to speak in complete sentences and tell me who you are and what you are doing in this room."

"Jenny Humphrey, ma'am." The girl curtsied, her eyes trained to the floor when she pulled her hands away from her face. "I'm a housemaid here. The others sent me up to clean your room. I was under the impression you'd gone out with Lord Westbury."

"No, I'm afraid he went out alone." Blair forced a smile, trying to ignore her nakedness under the sheet. "What others do you speak of?"

"Hazel and Penelope, ma'am," the girl answered.

"They…work here as well?"

"Yes, ma'am."

It dawned on her that she knew so little about Northanger Palace – the Bass' estate. She had visited a number of times during her youth but only once or twice during the engagement. She hardly knew anything about the place considering all the changes that had taken place over the years. In fact, Blair doubted that she could walk around without getting lost. It was large, spacious – intimidating even. It was double, perhaps triple, the size of the Waldorf estate. Yet so many rooms were unoccupied.

The servant's quarters were downstairs, below the kitchen – relatively full with occupants. She and Chuck shared a room. His stepbrother Eric van der Woodsen stayed in a lower floor (though she had no idea where it was). And Bartholomew had moved to an apartment in London full-time (where it was closer to his work), leaving his son the entire property.

"I…see," Blair replied. "Then you're all aware that I am the lady of this house from now on?"

"O-Of course, ma'am."

"And you are all to do as I say?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, because from now on no one is allowed in this room other than myself, Lord Westbury, and Miss Dorota Kishlovsky."

"But what –" Jenny stopped midsentence, blushing a light shade of pink. Servant's rule number seven: _never_offer your opinion and _never_challenge the authority of your employer.

"Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now that you're here you might as well make yourself useful. You can help me get dressed."

"Yes, ma'am."

The young maid scurried over to her and began picking out clothes from the wardrobe.

She had half-_hoped_ that it would be Chuck walking through those doors. She certainly did not expect the young blonde girl who had appeared but she supposed it was good a time as any to begin enforcing the new rules. It was just unfortunate that she had to do it wearing nothing but a thin sheet around her body.

It wasn't decent – not at all.

Of course…she would have to go through everything with Dorota first and then Dorota would inform the rest of the staff. There was no place Blair went without _her_ Dorota by her side. It was one of the few stipulations she had set prior to the engagement. Northanger Palace was welcoming not one but _two_ new residents. And everybody would just have to live with it. Unfortunately, Dorota had gone to visit relatives in Poland after the wedding and wouldn't be returning for another three weeks.

Blair wondered if she could even survive that long as Mrs. Charles Bass – _Lady_ Blair Cornelia Waldorf…Bass…Westbury…it was all so much.

After changing the sheets, Jenny helped her into her undergarments and then a purple gown, one with white trimmings. Next she proceeded to do her hair. All the while, Blair was impressed with the way the young blonde seemed to be managing. She had been a shaking, jittery mess earlier but was quite composed now. Still, she had to be very innocent and very naïve. She had been sent up to the room by these other maids who had claimed that _both_ Lord and Lady Westbury had vacated their room that morning. Clearly, that had not been the case.

They had set out to humiliate the poor girl. Blair wondered how the Bass' could employ such horrid women.

Jenny was _so_ young. Blair guessed fifteen, the same age Blair had been when she had gotten engaged to Nathaniel Archibald. And suddenly she felt a tinge of sympathy for the other girl. Jenny would have to marry a wealthy man if she ever wanted to leave this profession. But without a dowry – without _some_ kind of reward – it was next to impossible. No man would ever look at her twice.

"You may go," Blair told her when Jenny finished with her hair.

The girl stepped back. "Yes, ma'am." She curtseyed once before scurrying out of the room.

Is that what Blair had done? She had married a man to higher her station. Bass was a powerful name. But she didn't love him. She hardly knew him at all. She had known the _boy_Chuck Bass – the Chuck Bass who played childish games with her when no one else paid attention.

Children were meant to be seen, not hear and Blair's mother lived by that principle. It was a lonely upbringing but she had her friends by her side which made it all the more bearable.

Chuck Bass was no longer a boy, however.

He was a nineteen year old man. God knows what he had done in his lifetime. He had been a libertine of sorts once – to the chagrin of his father. He had lived without restraints, without rules and without morals – engaging in debauchery and hedonism. She'd heard stories.

Blair wondered if he had truly, completely given up that lifestyle. It was hard to say.

:::

She found him sitting with his father later.

"– and Mr. Baizen is willing to sell the property in exchange for a small profit."

"Are you sure that's wise, Charles…"

Blair carefully assessed both father and son. Chuck sat across from Bartholomew Bass on the opposite sofa. His eyes sparkled, his movements animated as he explained to his father the merits of working with Henry Baizen – the wealthy patriarch of the Baizen family.

In stark contrast, Bartholomew sat still, stoic – listening to his son speak with a measure of cold indifference. It was Bart's way, she knew. He was not the friendliest of men but he was not entirely _un_friendly either. Although he rarely displayed his emotions, Blair knew he had to have feelings.

When she neared, Bart looked up to acknowledge her presence. Blair smiled in his direction – opting to ignore her husband lest she faint.

"Sir, I didn't mean to intrude on your conversation." She bowed her head once before letting her gaze drift over to Chuck anyway. He was watching her so intently she almost gasped.

"That's quite alright, Blair." Bart stood up and Chuck quickly followed suit. A maid, sensing his departure, quickly scampered over to them with his coat. "I should be on my way."

Alarms rang. If he left…she would be left all alone with Chuck. And she couldn't have that – not right now. "Oh?" she squeaked. "But you haven't even had tea yet."

"I had plenty earlier this morning."

"Then you should have more, my lord," she pressed, hoping her tone wasn't too desperate.

"I would love to, Blair, but I'm afraid I have a very important business meeting to attend this afternoon. Perhaps, another time?"

Her smile faltered but she nodded anyway. "Of course."

"Charles." Bart nodded at his son.

"I'll show you out, Father," he replied, walking up to Blair. He smirked in her direction, a devilish sparkle in his eyes. Blair darted her eyes away, making sure to avoid any eye contact with him.

Bart, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware. "Until next time, Blair."

She said her farewell, smiling sweetly until Chuck brushed past her. He was looking at her with those deep, coal black eyes – trying to gauge a reaction.

He was replaying the memories from last night in his head…trying to get her to do the same…It was all over his face but…Blair remained composed, willing her temperature to go down. Her face was flaring up and she couldn't have that, could she?

When he and Bart were further away, Blair let out the puff of air she'd been holding in. Chuck Bass would be the death of her. She still didn't understand it – didn't understand why her body reacted the way it did.

He was a man – just a man.

The maid from earlier was staring at her.

"You may go," Blair snapped.

The girl jolted up and scurried off, muttering a, "yes, my lady."

Blair sat down on one of the sofas (the one not occupied by Chuck a moment ago) and took in her surroundings. It was a beautifully decorated room with an ornate-looking fireplace off in the corner and a large bookshelf. There were various paintings hanging on the walls – Blair recognized some of the artists. She wondered if the late Evelyn Bass had inspired this room. She wouldn't be surprised. She had heard stories about Chuck's mother and from what she remembered Evelyn had been a very classy, very sophisticated woman.

"Blair." His hands were fisted in his pockets when he walked into the room.

She almost didn't look up but his voice called her to him like a siren. She had the burning desire to suddenly throw herself at him – plead with him _take me__now_. But it was highly improper and Blair Waldorf was a classy lady. She did not throw herself at anyone.

"Mm?" she managed, not trusting her voice.

He smiled and sat down next to her. "I hope you weren't too angry with me this morning for my absence."

She resisted the urge to scoot away from him. "To be honest, I hardly noticed at all." _Liar_.

"Well, I would have wanted nothing more than to see you awake in my arms." He looked sincere, from what she could tell. "Unfortunately, my father's visit required my assistance and I was called away. Though I see now his visit was nothing more but a scrutiny on some of my…private affairs." A flicker of anger shone on his face. "I…regret leaving you. I should have stayed. I know t would have been far more pleasant."

Carefully, she looked at his face – just now seeing the exhaustion and the agony that she hadn't noticed before. She made a move to grab his hand before reconsidering and abruptly pulling away.

Instead, she offered him a small smile. "Well, if you _had_stayed you would have shared in my humiliation of having a complete stranger barge into the room while wearing nothing but a bed sheet – myself, that is. It was utterly embarrassing." Somehow, she didn't think Chuck would have minded all that much. But it was something to get his mind off of his father.

He smirked. "Nothing but a bed sheet?"

Oh. She was just asking for it, wasn't she? Blair blushed. "Well I needed _something_ to cover myself up with after waking up from…"

"Our lovemaking?" he whispered. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes when he slid closer to her.

"I –"

He grabbed her hand, lightly caressing the back of it with his thumb.

"I really do regret it, you know," he continued.

Blair was…startled. No, she didn't know Chuck Bass very well at all. Was he a chauvinist or a romantic? How did he feel about _her_? His father? His mother? What were his hopes and dreams…

"Chuck –"

"You were…amazing last night."

Her breath hitched. She _really_ wanted to kiss him then.

"Let's talk a walk."

:::

The gardens were truly stunning – red and white roses everywhere. Again, Blair wondered if it had anything to do with Evelyn. She contemplated asking Chuck but, then again, she wasn't sure how he would react. Blair didn't know what it was like losing a loved one. Few people she knew had suffered a loss like that.

"These flowers are beautiful – so…sophisticated and elegant," she told him. "The only thing missing are some hydrangeas, I'm afraid."

"Then plant them."

She looked up. "What?"

"I promised you that as my wife you would have everything you want. And I meant it. Plant the hydrangeas, Blair."

"Yes…I suppose you did say that."

Blair reached for one of the roses and leaned in to smell. Chuck watched from behind, an amused look on his face. She turned around just in time to catch his smiling at her.

"What?" she asked. She was slightly amused herself but for what – she wasn't sure. Perhaps his smile was just too…infectious?

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"So what was that you were discussing with your father when I came into the room earlier?" she asked, stepping away from the flowers back to his side. "I heard Henry Baizen's name."

"It would be my first business transaction," he confessed. "Mr. Baizen agreed to sell one of his properties to me in exchange for a small stipend in our investments. It's called Victrola and it's…beautiful – truly beautiful, Blair. I don't think words could describe it. I fell in love with it the moment I stepped inside."

She smiled proudly, finding Chuck's enthusiasm for the project infectious. She could see it written all over his face. He was _glowing_. "Chuck, that's wonderful. When would you start?"

"Unfortunately my father isn't so keen on the idea. He doesn't trust the Baizen family – or myself for that matter."

"Nonsense – your father trusts you. I can't say I blame him for his feelings towards the Baizen's, however. Remember how Carter Baizen treated that poor American girl last summer. It tarnished his reputation."

"Society has a way of marring everyone even remotely linked to the perpetrator of scandal. Henry Baizen did nothing wrong. His son acted alone. We can't blame him for Carter Baizen's actions."

"Still, I would have you know that I am a _very_good judge of character. I've met with Mr. Baizen a number of times. He is not all he appears to be. If you do go into business with him, please be careful around him."

Chuck smirked. "Are you worried about my well-being, Blair?"

"Not at all," she huffed. "I am simply stating a fact. Your father will come around eventually – you're a very skilled negotiator. And when he does and you buy Victrola, it would be best to employ an extra pair of eyes to watch Mr. Baizen – just in case he decides to start trouble for you."

"Your point is well taken."

She smiled but said nothing more on the subject. She was a woman, yes, but she wasn't a dimwit. She was intelligent, well-versed in the art of deception and espionage. She used to play such games with Chuck when they were younger – trickery and duplicity, they were experts. She knew people. She knew Henry Baizen.

After another hour or so of wandering and conversation, they decided to turn in. Chuck talked about his other business ventures. Blair told him about the latest books she'd been reading. By the end of it, Blair was surprised at how easy their conversations flowed, how easy it was for her to be around him.

Perhaps married life wouldn't be so difficult after all.

:::

Jenny scrubbed at the floors, a band of sweat trickling from her forehead. She heard footsteps and giggling and immediately knew the sounds to be Hazel and Penelope.

They were the last people she wanted to see at the moment. She was still mortified from her run-in with Lady Westbury. Earlier that morning, Penelope had convinced her that she would gain Lord Westbury's new wife's favor if she cleaned their room. Knowing it had been their wedding the night before, Jenny had initially refused. But then Hazel had insisted that she'd seen the lord and lady drinking tea in the lounge with Bartholomew Bass.

"_No one will be in the room_," Hazel had said. "_It's the perfect opportunity for you, Jenny. Go on._"

Jenny had foolishly believed her. Now her new mistress probably hated her. Lady Westbury had been near-naked – shocked to see Jenny barge into the room like she had. And Jenny couldn't blame her. She'd probably hate her too if she was in Lady Westbury's position.

"Oh, Jenny, did you tidy up Lady Westbury's room for her like we told you?" Penelope asked when she walked up to her.

Jenny looked up at them, narrowing her eyes. "How could you – the both of you? You _knew_ she was still in her room. I'll probably lose my job thanks to what happened."

"Don't get so riled up, Jenny," Penelope admonished. "Hazel and I were just talking and we couldn't feel guiltier about this morning. But we didn't do it on purpose. Hazel really thought she saw Lady Westbury drinking tea with Lord Westbury. Right, Hazel?"

The other girl nodded. "Right – it was an honest mistake."

Jenny frowned, looking down at her reflection in the bucket of water she was using to clean the floors.

"Do you forgive us, Jenny?" Penelope asked.

The younger girl sighed. "I…suppose – if it was just an honest mistake."

"It was," Hazel nodded. "And it won't happen again. Don't worry about your job, either. You won't lose it over us, will she?"

"No – not at all," Penelope agreed.

"I was just over there and Lady Westbury seems like a very…nice woman." Hazel smiled, sharing a look with Penelope.

The girls giggled and sauntered off, leaving Jenny to finish cleaning. The young blonde watched them leave – torn over whether or not to believe them. It was just a mistake, wasn't it? They weren't malicious girls. They wouldn't try to get her fired. Hazel and Penelope were her only friends here. And she _needed_ friends. It was the only sense of normalcy in her life at the moment.

Over a year ago her family had become completely and irrevocably destitute. Consequently, her mother had abandoned them. Her Irish father, whose only passion in life was music, was forced to sell all their belongings – among them his violin.

Those had been the bleakest days of her existence. She battled starvation and fever after fever.

Then her father found inspiration and left to find work in America, promising to return for his children within six months time.

Six months had passed and no word from him.

Jenny had lost hope.

That is, until, her brother Daniel found them a job in a factory in London. The conditions were poor but it was enough pay for two slices of bread a night.

Eventually it had gotten to be too much for Jenny – the physical and verbal abuse and the lack of sanitation had gotten to be too much.

She looked for work elsewhere. By chance, she met Eric van der Woodsen and he had offered her a job at Northanger Palace. She had taken it immediately, thanking God – thanking Lord Wesbury and his family.

Her brother had quit shortly thereafter and found a job with _The London Gazette_. It was far from being a steady job but at the very least it allowed him to indulge in his passion for writing and reporting. Jenny made a point to visit him once a week – as often as possible.

When she was done scrubbing, she looked into the water again and found she was crying. Sniffling, she wiped her tears away and stood up on shaky knees. Someday she'd be fabulously wealthy, Jenny vowed. Then she'd never have to worry about clothes or food or shelter ever again. She and Daniel and her father would live like _royalty_.

Someday.

:::

Blair had retired to their bedroom for the evening. After dinner, Chuck said he needed to finish some work in his office. The plan was to fall asleep before Chuck arrived. But Blair found it difficult to close her eyes for any extended period of time. It was this bed. She couldn't sleep knowing what had taken place the night before. Maybe she wanted it to happen…again?

No – that wasn't it.

It was just the cold.

Blair roughly threw the comforter off her and headed over to the windows. She slid the glass down, fumbling with the latch when she heard the door open behind her.

She froze.

"What are you doing, Blair?" he asked.

She gulped. She thought she had gotten comfortable enough to be alone with him – after spending all day with him (alone). But clearly, it wasn't so. In their room, alone together – at night, it was even more unnerving.

"I was just closing this window. It's so cold in here," she explained, her back to him.

She felt him near. At the warmth radiating from his body, she flushed immediately. He pressed a hand to her back and then she saw his arm come around to click the latch into place.

"Thank you," she said at last.

"I'm sorry we couldn't spend our honeymoon in a more proper setting." When she turned around, he was shedding his overcoat and slipping out of his shoes.

"That's quite alright. I know you're busy…with Victrola and your father and Mr. Baizen..." She sat down on the bed. Her nightgown was long so it rode up just above her ankles.

"That's no excuse." He slid his shirt off and Blair quickly averted her eyes. "I promise you a real honeymoon – perhaps next month – anywhere you want."

"Anywhere?" she smirked. She made the mistake of looking at him just as he was slipping out of his trousers. She blushed but found she couldn't look away. "I've missed France, you know. I haven't visited my father's villa in the longest time."

"Then we'll go there – the two of us…and Dorota if you like."

He hadn't forgotten about her. Blair smiled. "That would be wonderful."

He came to her from the other side of the bed, wearing a nightshirt and pants. He tugged her closer so she was pressed against him. Blair's heart thudded in her chest. He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles. She leaned forward, expecting a kiss when suddenly…he pulled away.

"Goodnight, Lady Westbury."

Her mouth was still open in shock when his head hit the pillows and he closed his eyes – letting sleep wash over him.

That was it?

And she couldn't, for the life of her, find sleep after that.

**A/N:** So I decided to keep going with this. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I watched "The Debarted" last night and OMFG983nh$tjker*(n&4387yco. Chuck was amazing! That last scene between him and Blair was ...truly EPIC! Sorry but I just have to gush over the amazingness of it all! SIGH. Unfortunately, we have to wait until March 8. We'll see what happens with this story until then. Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A week passed and Blair was quickly adjusting to her new role as Lord Westbury's wife.

She didn't see Eric often but when she did he was always a pleasant figure to be around. He was practical, level-headed – so unlike the vast majority of people in Blair's life. He and Chuck got along like any real brothers – with Eric sometimes taking on the role of older brother despite his younger years.

Aside from a few kisses here and there, things between her and Chuck had remained static.

No – it didn't bother her.

No – the ache between her thighs had nothing to do with him.

She was fine – just fine.

"Jenny!" she barked.

The young maid jumped, turning to her mistress with a look of trepidation on her face. "Yes, my lady?"

"Where is my croissant? I asked for croissants – not _scones_. And this tea! This tea is _bland_. Do you honestly expect me to drink this awful concoction? Fix it! _Now_!"

Hurriedly, Jenny scooped up the plates. "Yes, my lady – right away."

Chuck was sitting across from Blair, reading _The London Gazette_ whilst eating his own breakfast. Unlike his wife, he was quite content with the food and his tea – he had nothing to complain about. It made him wonder about Blair. She was obviously upset about something _–_but it wasn't the tea she was upset about – this much he knew. He looked at her over his newspaper.

"Something wrong, Lady Westbury?"

"No," she snapped. "Why do you ask?"

Something was _definitely_ wrong. "You seem…hostile."

"Do I?" she asked in a sugary sweet voice. "I feel perfectly fine."

"Blair," he pressed.

She sighed, letting the anger dissipate from her face. "I'm just…I miss Dorota. She sent a letter from Poland yesterday saying she has to extend her trip. I don't pay for vacation days, I'll have you know."

He smiled, slightly relieved. "Don't worry. She'll be back before you know it. Let her finish what she's doing there and she'll never have to leave your side again."

Nodding, Blair agreed. "I suppose you're right. I just need to keep myself busy in the meantime."

With that, Chuck returned to his newspaper. Sighing, she forced a blueberry down her throat. What she really wanted was to ask him why he hadn't touched her since their wedding night. They slept in the same bed together – night after night – but he made no move to snake his tongue between her teeth, to grope her legs in the middle of the night…

He _must_ have lied to her that day he told that she had been "amazing" – perhaps to spare her feelings – because he showed no interest in her aside from a peck on the cheek here and a kiss to the forehead there.

"I'm going to go for a walk," she announced. Blair desperately needed a distraction.

"What about your tea?"

"I don't care," Blair mumbled. "Tell the maid she can have it."

:::

Outside it was a particularly chilly day.

Blair shivered, clutching her shawl tighter to her body. The winds were blowing rather harshly, whipping through her hair. Judging from these conditions, it probably wasn't the appropriate time to go for a walk. She could go back inside – entertain herself with a novel from the Bass' vast collection of books. Still, it was remarkably beautiful outside – even with the winds blowing as they were. Various flower scents from the gardens had drifted to the house, enveloping her where she stood outside.

In the distance, she saw one of the servants running towards her. His hand was pressed to his head to keep his hat from flying off as he ran against the wind. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, when he reached her.

"What is it?" Blair asked worriedly.

"There's a woman at the gates for you – says she _must_ speak with the lord and lady of the house."

She frowned, not having anticipated guests that morning. "Did this woman say who she was?"

The man shook his head. "No, but she said it was urgent."

"Let her in," she instructed after a moment. She turned around, climbing up the steps. "Escort her into the house while I get Lord Westbury."

:::

Chuck seemed puzzled when Blair told him about their visitor but nonetheless he followed her to the foyer where they waited for the mysterious woman to make her appearance.

Not long after Blair saw the man from earlier and next to him…

There was a woman with tumbling golden-blonde locks – wild and unrestrained. In her hands were two bags. The bottom of her skirt flew around her feet like ripples in a lake as she clutched an oversized fur coat to her body. She wore her hair down so it was billowing in the wind over her face. Even then Blair knew immediately who it was. Her tall, Amazonian figure could have been spotted from a mile away.

"Serena?" she called over the wind.

"Blair!" The woman parted her hair when she neared – revealing bright blue eyes, a pointed nose, stunning smile. She was beaming – elated at the sight of the brunette. "I've missed you!"

A chill ran up her back. She didn't say anything – just listening to the wind blaze, staring at the blonde woman as if she'd seen a ghost. She was frozen for about a good minute or two – stunned, speechless, and disoriented.

Then she turned on her heel and…left.

:::

Chuck watched his wife disappear down the hallway before turning to the blonde woman at his doorstep.

"Serena…" he spoke slowly, carefully. "What brings you here?"

"I –" she licked her lips, setting her bags down in front of him. The glow had vanished from her face. "I thought she'd be happy to see me – both of you."

He looked down at the bags – then his step-sister. "I'm sure she's thrilled," he drawled. "After not hearing from you in two years, who wouldn't be?"

"Charles –"

"She was out of her mind when you left – we all were."

"I never meant–"

"You're family so I'll let you stay the night but any night after that is up to Blair." He paused. "Arthur will take your bags."

With that, he retreated down the hallway after his wife.

:::

Blair lay on her side in their bed when he got there.

Chuck sighed, closing the door behind him when he entered. He looked down at his wife, her back to him.

He knew that she must have heard him enter the room but she didn't move to greet him. To be honest, Chuck Bass was no expert on dealing with other people's emotions. Hell, he couldn't even deal with his own feelings. It was one of the many repercussions of being raised by one Bartholomew Bass. You learned to suppress your emotions – act like they didn't exist.

He knew he couldn't behave that way around Blair, however. He needed to take care of her – show her he could take care of her.

It was a concept Chuck still hadn't been able to wrap his head around. He was married – a husband. And Blair Waldorf was his _wife_.

He had fallen for her since the moment he met her – all those years ago. It just hadn't dawned on him until recently – not until her engagement with Nathaniel was broken two years ago.

Suddenly…he saw her in a new light. And he wanted her – wanted her in every possible way he could have her. But he knew that she would never agree to it unless someone was there to sway her hand. It was his reputation, he knew. He had…been with many women – he had dealt a number of sins.

He used to flaunt his lifestyle – air his dirty laundry for the whole world to see.

And nothing pleased him more than the look on his father's face every time a scandal erupted in Chuck's name. It used to be the only way to get his attention. The more trouble he got into, the more damaging it was to his father's business. And the more he drank, the more he was convinced it was the right thing to do.

Until he realized it was pointless.

He had…a change of heart, to say the least.

His father thought he was a failure – a weakling. And instead of continuing to prove him right, he decided he would prove him wrong instead.

Upon his eighteenth birthday, he had begged his father to take him under his wing. He would prove to him he was worthy of the Bass name. He would prove to him that he could be just as savvy, just as intelligent – just as cunning. Chuck Bass was no failure. Chuck Bass was no weakling.

Then…there was Blair.

They had been close once. They used to confide secrets in each other. But somewhere along the line it had gone horribly wrong and they had…drifted apart.

But he was determined to change all that.

He first brought up the idea with Bart.

"_The Waldorf's are a prominent family_," he had told his father. "_No one else would be better suited_."

"_I suppose it could undo some of the damage you've inflicted upon our family name. Taking on a wife and Blair Waldorf no less – it would be a wise move, Charles_."

It hadn't taken much for Bart to convince Eleanor. She had agreed immediately and convinced her daughter to accept the proposal. And it had been done.

They were married.

And Charles Bass had gone from unwed charlatan and rake to ambitious businessman and devoted husband.

"She's still here, isn't she?" Blair said from the bed.

He nodded – even though she couldn't see him. "I'm letting her stay the night. In the morning, she'll be gone."

She said nothing for a minute and then when he heard sniffling, he grew worried.

"That is what you want, isn't it?" he asked.

"No – yes…" she heaved a sigh. "I don't know."

He stalked over to the bed, taking his place beside her.

"Why is she here? Why now?" She sounded weary. "Did she…did she say anything?"

"No, I didn't ask."

He heard the muted tears in her voice. "It's probably for the best."

He touched her shoulder, trailing his hand down and then up her arm. He repeated the motion before coming around to encircle her waist. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of her neck and slowly he felt her relax against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her neck. "What can I do? I don't like seeing you upset."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. W – What about you? How are you? And Eric – does he even know? She – she's your sister."

"She's no more my sister than she is yours. I know how much Serena means to you."

She grasped the hand that was on her stomach and intertwined their fingers. "Thank you for being here – with me."

"There's no place I'd rather be."

Blair closed her eyes and breathed in a sigh. She felt a dizzying calm wash over her. She hadn't seen her best friend in two years. The effects of seeing Serena again – after so long – was head-splitting. She had gone through the motions of missing her, of crying over her, of hating her until – until all that remained was a dull ache in her heart where Serena had been.

"Maybe…" Her voice broke. She paused, taking a moment to think. "Maybe I should go talk to her."

"Are you sure?" His thumb caressed the back of her hand – she felt his breath on her neck.

"Yes," she sighed. "Don't let her leave – please."

:::

"Serena?"

The blonde turned around slowly. Upon seeing who it was her lips broke out into a grin. She threw her arms around him, squeezing her brother into a hug and giggling softly to herself.

"Eric! I've missed you so much," she squealed. "Look how handsome you look! I almost didn't recognize you!"

"Serena, what…" He stepped back from her embrace. "What are you doing here?"

Eric had found her in the room next to his. At first he had thought it was one of the maids looking out the window, daydreaming on the job, but then he'd seen the thoughtful look upon the woman's face, the long wisps of blonde hair and he'd immediately realized that it was his sister. He was taken aback. She looked older, more mature. She'd grown taller as well. It was his sister – but from a completely different lifetime.

Serena's smile fell and she looked anxious. "I – I've come back."

"I see that but –" The boy shook his head, taking a step back. "You disappeared. I wrote you letters – we all did – but you never replied. Mother said you'd gone to America but –"

"I had – and I received all of your letters –"

"But you never wrote back?"

"America's a different place, Eric."

"Not so different that you couldn't take the time to write a simple letter."

She sucked in a breath, turning away from him. "You hate me as well?"

He saw her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was gloomy, her eyes watering with unshed tears.

"I don't hate you," he told her softly. "I could never hate you. You're my sister. I'm just...so much has happened. You've been gone a long time."

"Two years," she added.

Then she was outright crying, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry Eric!" She was shaking, her sobs raking through her entire body. "I'm so sorry!" She turned around, her hand covering her mouth when she looked at him with bloodshot eyes. It was as if the realization had just dawned on her – the realization that had been two years since she'd last seen her brothers and her best friend. "I never meant – I never meant to hurt you. I never meant _any of this_. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

His heart ached seeing his sister in such a state. Swiftly, he wrapped her up in arms and she buried her face in his shoulder – heaving sobs and muttering muffled apologies.

"Calm down." He rubbed her back, thoughts lingering on what had occurred during her absence. "Calm down. It's fine. Everything's fine."

"I shouldn't have left. I'm so sorry I left."

"It's okay."

Her eyes were still bloodshot, her face swollen when she pulled away. She forced a watery smile across her lips. "When did you get so tall? Last time I saw you, you could barely reach my shoulders."

He chuckled. "I told you – a lot has changed."

"Too much," she nodded. "Blair and Chuck are _married_. Our step-brother has changed, hasn't he?"

"He's happier – wiser. He wants to make Bartholomew proud."

"And Blair? How is she?"

Eric smiled. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

:::

They must have fallen asleep because when Blair woke it was mid-afternoon and she was cradled in Chuck's arms. He was sleeping soundly behind her, his front pressed against her back. She turned in his arms so she could get a proper look at his face. Gently, she placed the palm of her hand on his cheek. He was so cold, she thought to herself.

She placed her arms around him and pressed a kiss against his cheek, hoping to warm him. She shifted so her lips touched his chin and then…his lips – she was so close.

He stirred in her arms. "Blair?" he mumbled, eyes closed.

"I'm here."

She felt his hand trail up her back and from his voice she could tell he was half-asleep. "We must have…dozed off."

"Yes…we must have," she replied softly.

When he said nothing and his arms slackened, she pressed herself closer against him.

"Chuck?" she whispered. Her hand slid into his hair – massaging slowly.

His breath tickled her nose. "Mm?"

"Kiss me."

And he was awake.

"I want – I want to kiss you." And more – she wanted to do more than just _kiss_.

Breathing out a sigh, she bridged the gap between them, pressing her lips insistently against his. She moaned against him when she felt Chuck's tongue touch hers. Tugging at his hair, she rolled them over so she was on top. She parted her legs to straddle him as his hands slid under her dress, rubbing circles on her thighs.

"Blair," he gasped. He was _truly_ awake now.

She trailed kisses across his jawbone – her hand sliding under his shirt.

"Blair," he repeated. "Blair, stop."

He grabbed her wrists, ceasing her movements.

They were breathing heavily through their mouths.

"Why?" she asked.

"I –"

"You don't want me?"

"No, I want you. I just – are you sure?"

She caressed his face in her hands. Sighing contentedly under the feel of her skin, he let his eyes slide shut. "You don't have to ask me that every time," she told him softly.

"I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to do this – because you're my wife."

"But I don't feel that way. I _want_ this." He opened his eyes. "Is that why you've been…keeping your distance from me? Because you thought I didn't want to?"

He let his trademark smirk grave his lips when he opened his eyes. "You want me."

She smiled, running her hands through his hair. "Well, don't let it get to your head."

Leaning up, he captured her lips and she responded eagerly to the kiss. Moaning, she grinded her hips against his when his hands traced the stockings under her dress. His hands trailed up her back, undoing the strings holding up her dress. His teeth lightly grazed her shoulders and she moaned louder, her head thrown back – pale throat exposed to his hungry eyes.

"Chuck," she breathed.

She vaguely heard the sound of a knock but she was so wrapped up in Chuck – completely undone. His tongue was inside her mouth, touching – prodding. And his hands were everywhere, grasping her hair – pulling her down closer…and closer still.

"Blair! I have to talk to you!"

She yelped and pulled away at the sound of the voice. Hastily, she climbed off of Chuck and fixed her dress as quickly as possible. He watched her from the bed, trying to steady his breathing as he smirked up at her. She was gorgeous – with her hair fluffed up, dress wrinkled…lips swollen.

"Blair! I'm not leaving until you –"

The brunette swung open the doors, stopping Serena mid-sentence.

"Yes?" she asked calmly.

Serena opened her mouth – her eyes widening when she took in Blair's ragged appearance. Behind her was Serena's step-brother, straightening his clothes as he got off the bed – hair unkempt and nearly as wild as Blair's.

"Am I –"

"We were just taking a nap," Blair explained, easy smile on her face.

It was the first smile – genuine or not – she'd gotten from Blair in a long time. Serena couldn't help but return it affectionately, the corners of her eyes tearing up. Blair noticed immediately and her smiled dropped as she looked at Serena uneasily. The moment between her and Chuck had passed and she was now faced with her blonde (former) best friend.

"Blair," Serena asked slowly. "Do you want to talk?"

"I –" The brunette threw a backward glance at Chuck who quickly strode past her out of the room, fixing the collar of his jacket on his way out.

"Go on, I have some business I need to catch up on." He gestured to the room, smirk in place as he shared a look with his wife.

Quietly, Blair gently took Serena's hand. The blonde squeezed, tears threatening to spill from her large blue orbs.

Blair gestured to the room. "Come."

And she closed the door behind them.

**A/N:**Remember to drop a review! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When Chuck returned to their room, he found his wife and step-sister embracing – their hands linked as Serena talked in a quiet voice and Blair listened intently with unshed tears in her eyes. He watched them for a few minutes, neither of them noticing his presence. Only when he cleared his throat did the two women look up in his direction. Serena's smile was watery and slightly awkward – Blair's tiny yet poignant.

Chuck smirked at them as he leaned against the doorframe. Of course they had made up – as quickly as they did, too. There was one universal truth in the world that Chuck was fairly certain of – Serena and Blair couldn't do without each other for very long.

"Charles," Blair greeted, grabbing a tissue to dab at her eyes. "Serena was just telling me about America. We must have...lost track of time."

"That's perfectly alright," he replied. "I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about."

"That we do," Blair agreed. She turned to the blonde, squeezing her hand. "Serena?"

The blonde gulped, jolting out of her seat at the contact. "I should go."

"Serena –" Blair started. They shared a meaningful look before Serena shook her head, pulling her hand out of Blair's grasp.

"I'm so tired," Serena sighed. "I've been traveling for weeks and I think it's time I got some proper rest."

After a moment Blair nodded, forcing a smile across her face. "Yes, you must be _exhausted_. And you can stay here with us of course – for as all as you like."

"Thank you, Blair." She pulled the brunette into one last embrace. "Good night and sweet dreams."

"Good night, Serena."

The blonde was more hesitant to approach her step-brother when she walked away from Blair. Her smile was uneasy at best. "Good night, Chuck."

"Sister," he nodded.

She swallowed, her throat tight, before making her way out of the room.

He closed the door after her and then turned to Blair who was sitting on the chaise across the room with her hands clasped together. She smiled tightly, brushing her hand against the soft material of her gown. He raised an eyebrow and, slowly, he walked towards her.

"She's hiding something, isn't she?" he asked finally.

"No." She almost winced at how high her voice got. Blair usually made for a very good liar – not today apparently.

"She seemed nervous," he remarked. "Jittery, almost."

"You must be imagining things, Lord Westbury. She was more than delighted to see you. Why wouldn't she be? You _are_ her brother, after all."

"Precisely – I am her brother, which is all the more reason for her to keep secrets from me."

"Serena is _fine_."

"Blair." He looked at her then, eyes looking deep into hers. "If she's in trouble, I can help."

Blair took in a deep breath. Chuck made a rather convincing argument despite the fact Blair had just been sworn into secrecy by Serena. Still, the truth would come out eventually. It always did. And it would probably be best to tell Chuck the truth _now_ rather than watching him stumble upon it later…

"Chuck," she started. "I just – I don't want you to panic too much."

"You're starting to worry me."

She lifted his hand and intertwined their fingers. "Serena is…" She closed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Serena is with child."

:::

Nathaniel Archibald jumped off the train, straightening his jacket as he landed on the ground below. It was difficult to breathe with the thick smoke permeating through the air but somehow he had managed – he had managed eight hours of it.

He looked around, brushing down his pants. There must have been a thousand people milling about the train station, as far as the eye could see. Most of them were ragged in appearance – and brutish in behavior.

A man shoved past him, knocking Nate into a mother with three small children. She shot him a glare which he responded to with an apologetic smile. But there were more people coming and she was swept away with the crowd as quickly as she had appeared.

"This place is a zoo!" his companion exclaimed.

He lifted his arm and helped ease her off the train. Vanessa Abrams didn't need much help, though – she was already half-way off the train. Having known the girl for a few short months now, Nate was fairly certain Miss Abrams could manage London even better than him – despite never having been there. The American girl had the brazen attitude of an English Parliamentary official and the fist of a fighter dog. She had saved Nate on multiple occasions during their long journey to England together. Some rescuing just needed a swift punch in the gut, according to Vanessa, who'd proudly demonstrated these abilities to him.

"And I thought New York was bad." She shook her head, lugging a small suitcase behind her.

Nate, himself, had started off with five bags. When he'd first arrived to New York, the number had dwindled down to three. Now back in England he was left with only one – and he wasn't sure its contents would be of any use to him. Still, he liked something to carry so he didn't feel completely possession-less. The situation was off-putting, to say the least.

"We'll have to hire someone to drive us to Windlemere," he told Vanessa. His parents hadn't been too thrilled about his initial departure to America but he'd received letters from his mother implying all had been forgiven. The Vanderbilts were a close family, despite the occasional betrayal and scandal that erupted every once in a while. Still, he knew they loved him and would protect him at all costs.

He just wasn't sure how they'd react to the American girl he'd brought with him.

"Hire someone – as in a stranger? No offense, Mr. Archibald, but you've got to be out of your mind. I don't think anyone here would hesitate to rob us at gunpoint or leave us stranded in the middle of the road just for the heck of it."

"You've got a better idea, Miss Abrams?"

"Not particularly."

"Then I'm afraid we'll just have to rely on the goodness of the English people and trust that they won't kill us."

"Fat chance," she muttered. "You Englishmen are all the same."

They found a car sitting innocently by the road outside Pembrook Train Station – caught in the traffic of people and various modes of transportation. The driver was a young man, about Nathaniel's age, with a lean build and wavy mop of brown hair under a small cap. He looked frustrated, a tad irritated even at the endless mob of people in his way.

"Excuse me, sir!"

The man turned to look at the two figures that had appeared outside his window.

"My young companion and I were wondering if perhaps you could give us a lift in your car. We're willing to pay you whatever amount –"

The young man shook his head, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry but I'm not a taxi cab."

"Please, it won't take up too much of your time – I assure you."

"I'm sorry but –"

"Please, sir."

"Look, uh, even if I wanted to help you – this traffic won't clear up any time soon. You're better off walking."

"The traffic will clear up. Please just –"

Vanessa leaned closer to the open window, pushing Nathaniel out of the way so she could address the man. "Look, mister, my friend and I could really use your help. We're willing to pay you everything we have. We've traveled a _long_ way to get here. Have you ever been on a train for eight hours? Those compartments are very tiny. And I'm very, _very_ tired. So please give us a ride and we'll be out of your hair before you know it."

The driver blinked, slowly taking in the young woman's words. Then his lips broke out into a grin and he laughed. "You're an American? Why didn't you say so? Get in!"

Vanessa shrugged, giving Nate a triumphant smile before opening the car door. "How'd you know?" she asked after sliding into the backseat.

"I'm sure the accent was a bit obvious," Nate muttered.

Vanessa shot him a look before turning to their driver.

"I've always wanted to go to America," he told them. "My father lives there, you know?"

She smiled. Perhaps she was wrong and not all Englishmen were the same. "Thanks a lot, Mister…"

"Humphrey," he replied, shooting her a backward glance. "Daniel Humphrey."

:::

"Chuck, please." Blair sighed, hands on her hips as she addressed the lump on the bed. "Be reasonable."

Shortly after Blair had revealed the truth about his step-sister, Chuck had barricaded himself under the blankets – refusing to speak to anyone, even his own wife. She ate dinner with Eric, assuming Chuck would snap out of his depression but when she returned to their room, he was still hiding under the blankets.

"You can't stay here all night and you can't go to sleep on an empty stomach," she chided, sitting on the bed next to the lump. "Don't be such a child, Charles Bass."

With that comment, Chuck emerged from the blankets – a rather intense look on his face. "_Child_?"

She flinched. "Perhaps that wasn't the most appropriate choice of words…"

"She's nineteen," he bit out. "She's not married. She has no prospects. And she goes and decides –"

"It was an accident, Chuck," Blair reasoned. "No one _decided_ this. And she does have prospects – she has a dowry."

He scoffed. "The measly amount her mother left her wouldn't satisfy a pawnbroker. But that doesn't matter. After she has the child – no one will want her."

"That's not true –"

"We both know it is – and if she isn't married what then? Is she to live here with us forever? Are we to support her child?"

"How can you talk that way? This isn't about you – or me. This is about Serena. She's going through a very difficult time. I can't imagine what she's thinking – and with a baby on the way. We _will_ support her, Chuck – no matter what." Her eyes softened as she looked down at her hands. "You love Serena – as much as I do."

"And that is precisely the reason I am so frustrated."

They were both quiet as Chuck disappeared under the blankets again.

"She has a fiancé," she started.

"What?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"Well, she _had_ a fiancé. He's an American. She broke off their engagement, though – she said she didn't love him."

"But the child is his?"

"She wouldn't say."

Blair heard a deep sigh and then he was bringing her down with him. When she opened her eyes, she was underneath the blankets, looking up at Chuck. His forehead was pressed against her neck and his arms were wound tightly around her waist.

"This is a mess," he whispered against her collarbone.

She combed her fingers through his hair. "We'll get through it – together."

He shut his eyes and they both listened to the sound of their hearts beating rhythmically together. They had adjusted to married life rather well, Blair thought to herself. Even in times of crisis, such as this, they were holding each other up. If marriage was a partnership, they were experts – had been their whole lives.

His finger traced the curve of her spine as her lips searched for his. Their kiss began soft and needy and quickly became desperate and hard. Layer by layer, the clothes came off – first her dress, then his trousers – her bodice, his shirt. And then they were lying completely naked on the bed and Blair felt that rush again – the rush of his skin on hers, soft and velvety. His lips came down to suckle on her breast and she writhed from beneath him.

"Chuck," she gasped. "Please." _Please_ – not that she even knew what she was asking for. But she had waited for this for _so long_. And her heart was beating so fast...anticipating what would happen next...

He came up, prodding his tongue inside her mouth before trailing kisses down her front. She moaned louder when she felt him harden between her legs – so close to where she really wanted him to be. Then his hands were pulling her legs apart and she felt his mouth against her cunt. His tongue touched her, slowly first – licking and biting. She shrieked this time, grasping his head and pulling him closer. He was…_devouring_ her – eating her out and it was completely vulgar.

And then his tongue was deep inside her – thrusting in and out faster and faster still…

She yelled, somewhere between a shriek and a moan. She was _so close_ to the edge – Chuck was bringing her to the brink of an _explosion_.

And her mind was completely devoid of any thoughts, any worries she may had had, any ill feelings – devoid of anything but Chuck. Chuck – and pleasure. Chuck. She could repeat the mantra over and over and never get tired of that name.

"_Chuck_!" And she was screaming it, spilling over the edge.

Then…there was a deafening calm within her. She was breathing hard when he came up to kiss her full on the mouth. And she could _taste_ herself on him.

"You...are beautiful," he whispered.

She sucked on his tongue, clawing at his hair to keep him there. She spread her legs further, angling her hips in his direction.

"I need you," she whimpered. "Please, Chuck."

And then he thrust himself inside her, into the wetness, and they were both crying out. She massaged his back, her hands coming around to rub his stomach and then his chest. He pounded into her, slowly at first. She felt his breath hitch when she trailed kisses down his cheek and then – his neck. She licked him there, innocently at first.

"Blair," he groaned, his hand coming up to grasp her hair.

She smirked as she bent her leg and spread herself further for him. He thrust deeper inside her as she continued her ministrations on his neck. She licked him – up and down, kissing and sucking on his neck. Her hands pulled at the tiny hairs on his chest and when they both came she felt him pull out – spilling his seed on the outside of her thigh.

He wiped her off with the sheets, throwing it on the floor when he was done.

She felt the cool air hit her nude body when he stood up off her. He licked his lips, looking her up and down with his blackened eyes. She was…mesmerizing – skin glistening with sweat. Her long, waist-length hair was completely tousled from their romp in the bed. And she was panting – chest heaving.

Blair blushed under his gaze, biting her bottom lip and fighting the urge to look away.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"You're a goddess," Chuck whispered. He skimmed his fingers against her ankle, coming down to suck on her toe.

He grabbed a spare comforter from a chair across the room. Blair watched his every movement, unable to look away from his nude body. She'd never felt so…comfortable with her sexuality before – before _this_. And now she was lying completely naked on a bed – on a bed she shared with Charles Bass – after making love with him – to him.

He joined her on the bed, draping the thick comforter over both of them before grabbing her arm and pulling her close against him.

She placed a teasing kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Again?" she whispered.

He smirked, his hand firm on her thigh. "My thoughts exactly."

And he flipped them over.

**A/N:** Drop a review! I'm glad people like the story because I'm enjoying it ;) I already have the next chapter and half of Chapter 6 written. So...let me know what you think :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Does Eric know?"

She was sitting on one of the white chairs outside, bathing under the sunlight when he came up behind her. She wasn't expecting him and, on instinct, her hand hovered over her stomach protectively before letting it drop back by her side.

"Know what?" Serena asked, craning her head to look at him.

Her step-brother sat on the chair next to her and looked out at the sprawling gardens across from them. A small patch in the gardens lay bare – tilled to make room for Blair's hydrangeas. He focused on the pink roses growing next to the patch of dirt – his mother's roses.

They were quiet for a few minutes, content in the silence and enjoying the atmosphere. And then Chuck was clearing his throat, drawing her attention to him once more.

"You know, I was sitting right here when my father told me about his plans to marry Lily van der Woodsen," he started.

It had been a day like any other except of course Chuck had always been one step ahead of the curve. He had known about his father's courtship of Mrs. Van der Woodsen – he'd known before Serena and Eric even cared to realize.

Still, it took him by surprise.

"I remember it so well," he continued. "And when she accepted…" His voice shook and he paused, swallowing the tightness in his throat. "I swear I wasn't expecting a family."

"Chuck…"

She looked at her brother – _really_ looked at him – like she was seeing him for the first time. He truly had changed, she thought to herself. Was it the wisdom that naturally came with age? Was it his engagement to Blair? Was it his father's influence? Or had he always been like this – just hidden away behind the alcohol?

Chuck sighed, adjusting the collar of his shirt. Bass men were _un_feeling, _un_emotional – bastards some would call them. They didn't wear their hearts on their sleeves. Rather they tucked it away – deep where no one would see. And having been raised a Bass, no one had taught him how to feel. Chuck had to learn by example – learn from watching Blair Waldorf and his new family.

"I've been...alone for so long," he admitted. "I never knew my mother. And you know as well as I do that my father isn't the most affectionate of men." A bitter smile crossed his face. "I never…expected any of that to change. I was living like a heathen but…at least I was content – I thought I was anyhow. And then your mother married my father."

Serena nodded, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. "It was the summer we were sixteen."

"I thought the only things I needed were money, the nameless women who brought me pleasure, and Nathaniel Archibald – my friend. But that wasn't true." His voice dropped above a whisper. "I fell in love with Blair that year. But not only that – I fell in love with my new family. The engagement – it changed my life. Lily became the mother I never had – for a short while anyway. And you and Eric – I came to love you like real siblings."

"And we _are_." Her hand shook as she moved a wayward strand of hair from her face. "Eric and I feel the same way about you and Bartholomew."

He wasn't looking at her, not quite, but he nodded anyway. "My father loves you like a daughter and he would do anything to protect his family – like _I_ would do anything to protect my family. You, Eric, and Blair are my whole world right now."

"I feel the same way," she agreed.

"Which is why I _need_ you to be honest with me now."

"What?" She shook her head. Try as she might, she couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Or perhaps the answer was too obvious and she didn't want to figure it out... "Chuck, what are you talking about?" she asked softly.

"Blair told me – last night."

And there was silence. His words were like an anvil dropping – crushing them, crushing _her_. And suddenly it became all the more apparent to her. But he waited. He waited for her to say something because he knew that eventually she would have to say _something_. She couldn't run away this time. Chuck wouldn't let her.

"You know," she whispered. She said it so quietly – not a question but a statement.

That drumming silence – it was vibrating in Chuck's head. And he too became quiet. "Tell me the truth, Serena."

"Truth?" she spit out. Her words cut, sliced through the quiet. "What _truth_ is there? I'm pregnant, Chuck. That's all there is to it. I'm pregnant and I'm unwed…" Her voice shook as she tried to hold back tears and maintain that semblance of anger. "That's all there is to it."

"Serena…"

"What do you want from me, Chuck?" she snapped. "I can't believe Blair told you – she told you even though I told her not to. Marrying you must have ruined her because the Blair I knew could keep secrets. The Blair I knew, I could trust!"

"You're not mad at Blair and you're not mad because of that. You know I would have found out eventually."

"Then _what_?" she screamed. "What do you want?"

He took a deep breath, trying to retain some level of calm. "I _want_ you to trust me. I want you to tell me everything."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Don't play dumb – not now, not here. If you truly think of me as your brother then you'll be honest with me –"

"Or what, Chuck? You'll throw me out? Abandon me? What?"

"I would never abandon you."

"Then _what_?"

"The summer we were sixteen," he started. "The summer our parent's wed…I saw you with Nathaniel."

Another blow –

Serena was struck speechless. She was shaking this time, truly shaking – from anger or fear or dread, she didn't know. Her hands were trembling and she couldn't look away from Chuck. He knew. He knew everything – all this time. "_What_?"

"After Bart and Lily's wedding – I saw you with him. It was mere coincidence at the time. Blair wasn't feeling well so Nathaniel asked me to take her to her room. I asked him why he couldn't do it himself but he was vague and said he needed to do something for his father. So I did what he asked and when I came down to look for him, I found _you_."

"All this time…"

He ignored her – continuing on as if his step-sister's eyes weren't brimming with tears, as if she wasn't shaking uncontrollably. "But it didn't matter when I saw him the next morning. He said he was going to marry Blair anyway – fulfill his parent's wishes. I convinced him otherwise."

"You –"

"He didn't know that you'd gone to America. But I knew."

"You didn't tell him."

"I waited for him to break off his engagement. Then he told his parents that he was planning on marrying you instead. But by then it was too late. You'd already left."

"He –" She licked her lips, trying to form a coherent thought. Her heart was racing against her chest.

"Nathaniel was devastated – at first. But then he convinced himself that he'd find you and bring you back. He asked where you were, assuming you were somewhere in England. But then Lily told him you'd gone to America."

"It was the farthest place I could think of," she admitted in a whisper.

"He put off finding you for a while," Chuck continued. "He was…upset – heartbroken. And by then, Blair had become engaged to me."

He looked at her then.

"Then all of a sudden he made plans to leave. He told me he was going to America – to see you."

"Does Blair…" Serena licked her lips, swallowing tightly. "Does she know?"

He shook his head. "I was never planning on telling her."

She stood up on shaky legs, holding onto the wall behind her for support. "Good – that's good. She can't…she can't know, Chuck. She just _can't_."

Chuck only nodded. Part of him liked to think it wouldn't change anything with Blair, but he knew better than that. The sixteen year old girl he once knew had been madly, deeply in love with Nathaniel Archibald. And if she ever found out the truth…

She wouldn't, though.

She couldn't.

He didn't look up when Serena left.

:::

Except for the sound of her breathing, Serena was utterly silent. It was happening so fast, she thought to herself. Of course she was shaking. Of course her heart was pounding. And _he_ was calm – eerily calm. And when he heard her leave – heard her footsteps disappear into the house – it still didn't _faze him_.

It never did with Bass men.

:::

"A ball?"

"A ball."

Blair giggled, clasping her hands together excitedly. She ushered the young maid to follow her into the drawing room, closing the doors behind them when she entered.

"I'm a countess now, Jenny," Blair said with an air of superiority. "And I have yet to throw a lavish party that signifies my new position in society." She sighed. "Oh, it'll be wonderful! We'll invite only the best families. There will have to be a lot of decorating – that's where you come in, of course."

"That sounds wonderful, my lady," Jenny smiled.

"Of course – it _is_ my idea. And if it makes Lord Westbury happy then…all the better, don't you think? He needs this. We need this. Oh! And we'll need to tailor two new dresses for the occasion. Remember to get Miss Van der Woodsen's measurements later."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh! It's going to be splendid!" Blair clasped her hands together, smiling. A thought occurred to her then and her smile quickly turned into a frown. "Oh, but I suppose I'll have to invite my mother. She'll throw a fit otherwise." She put a finger to her lips in contemplation. "We'll let her know at the last minute – I don't want her _meddling_."

"Yes, ma'am." Jenny nodded, following her mistress around the room – frantically trying to keep up. "Um, ma'am? If I may ask something?"

"Yes, Jenny?" Blair asked.

"Well, I was just wondering…that is – well, it sounds so spectacular. I'm sure my mistress would throw a beautiful ball and I was just wondering…if I may attend?"

Blair stopped abruptly and Jenny felt a flush rise up her neck – all the way to her face. The brunette turned around, a pitying look on her face. "Jenny, you're a _maid_. What would the guests think?"

With that, she turned her back to the younger girl and continued where she left off – as if the question had never been raised.

"And we'll have to –"

"But, my lady…" Jenny almost winced, realizing she had interrupted her superior. The past week, however, Jenny had gotten to know Lady Westbury better. They'd become something akin to…friends, but _not quite_ – which is why she tried to stop herself.

But it was too late because she simply couldn't help herself – she couldn't let the opportunity pass.

"I could pretend to be someone else for the night. Perhaps if I wore a disguise, no one would have to know my identity and –"

"That's brilliant, Jenny! A disguise!" Blair giggled and spun around the room. "We'll throw a masked ball. We'll have it written on the invitations – that everyone must wear a mask. The Bass' _are_ known for their mystique, after all. It would be perfect."

"Then I can go?" the younger girl asked hopefully.

Blair frowned and Jenny recognized that pitying look that emerged on her face. "The answer is no, Jenny."

The girl nodded understandingly, despite the dull ache in her heart and the fact that _no_ she didn't understand at all. So what if she was a maid? So what if she wasn't wealthy or elite or royalty?

_So what? So what? So what?_

She could be…if they just her a chance to prove herself…

"Yes, ma'am," Jenny said quietly.

But it wasn't _yes, ma'am_ to Jenny. Quite frankly, she was getting tired of all the _yes, ma'am_'s and _yes, my lady_'s. Just once in her life – just once – she wanted something magical to happen. She wanted something magical to happen _to her_. It was girls like Blair Waldorf – spoiled rotten by their non-absentee mothers and groomed for perfection all their lives – who got the happily ever after's.

Never girls like Jenny. _Never Jenny_.

And she accepted it – always. She accepted it when her mother left. She accepted it when her father left with promises of a future they would never have.

"But you can help me prepare," Blair told her softly. "You seem to be full of good ideas. It's a useful trait to have, Jenny."

"Yes, ma'am," she responded – because, quite frankly, there was nothing else to say on the matter.

Lady Westbury's mind was made up.

:::

"Chuck Bass, what are you doing out here?"

He was sitting on the chaise outside, staring listlessly at the clouds floating up above. "Nothing."

In Blair Waldorf's perfect world, everything _was_ fine. But this was Chuck Bass and his world was different – different because he would make it _not fine_and then he would sit back and watch the pieces of his life crumble all around him. And he would pretend like he was _enjoying_ it.

"Well then," his wife started. "Prepare to hear the most brilliant idea."

She announced it like she was queen, announcing her royal proclamation for the day. She sat down on the chaise, placing her hand delicately on his arm. "We're throwing a ball."

"A ball?" he asked, lips quirking in amusement.

"And not just any ball – a masked ball."

"A costume party?"

"I suppose you could say that."

She frowned when she saw that he wasn't nearly as enthused or interested as she thought he would be. He had that faraway look in his eyes like he wasn't really seeing her or hearing what she was saying. Sighing, she squeezed his arm.

"What's bothering you?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"I'm fine," he replied, not all that convincingly.

She looked down. "Is it Serena?"

When he didn't reply, she pulled her hand away.

"Fine," she huffed. "We won't talk about it. But if you're going to look so gloomy, don't do it our here by yourself. I like you much better smiling – or even smirking. I'll take smirking any day over that frown you've got on right now."

He chuckled lightly. "You wish to please me, Mrs. Bass?"

"I want you to be happy."

"Then I can think of," his hand trailed up her thigh – over her dress, "a number of different ways you can…satisfy me."

Blair gasped, pushing Chuck's hand away. "That is highly inappropriate behavior, Mr. Bass."

"You weren't complaining last night," he whispered. "In fact, I remember the distinct sound of you purring in my ear over and over…"

She blushed. "I did not!"

"We both know you did."

"Well," she huffed. "I wasn't the _only_ one making purring noises, was I?"

He only smirked. "No, I very much enjoyed our little dalliance in the bedroom. And I wouldn't be opposed to recreating it right here – especially when I put my –"

"Chuck!" she gasped, interrupting him midsentence.

He chuckled lightly before leaning back in his seat. "This masked ball sounds like a terrific idea. Considering it _has_been a few week since the wedding – we'll need something to draw people's attention…"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," she agreed. "It'll be our first society event as husband and wife."

Smiling, he brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed the knuckles. "Yes – husband and wife."

She only rolled her eyes, feigning indifference, and stood up – pulling him up with her. "Come, Lord Westbury," she said. "We have _a lot_ of planning to do."

Smirking, he followed her into the house.

:::

The trip to Windlemere had taken longer than they had expected. They had even been forced to stop at a small, dubious-looking inn to rest over night before continuing on their way. Then when they had arrived that morning, Nate had told Vanessa to stay in the car with Daniel while he met his parents and…sorted things out.

"_You want to leave me in the car alone with him_?" she had hissed.

Nate only shrugged. "_He seems like a nice fellow. He hasn't tried to kill us, has he_?"

"_I suppose not_…"

"_Good. I'll be back in a few minutes_."

But it had taken longer than "a few minutes". It had been two hours in fact – two hours of Daniel asking questions about America and Vanessa regaling him with stories (some make-believe and some not).

And Nathaniel was still inside – doing who knows what. She just hoped hisparents hadn't killed him.

Besides, she had come to agree with Nate over those two hours – their driver…wasn't half-bad.

Daniel was an interesting fellow, Vanessa thought to herself. The young driver had told them on the car ride over to Windlemere that he was a freelance reporter for _The London Gazette_, a popular newspaper circulating all over Europe. He had a younger sister who worked as a maid in the London countryside and a musician father who lived in America. He never mentioned a mother, though, and Vanessa thought that was odd.

Daniel Humphrey was well-read, too. The passenger seat was stacked with newspapers, journals, and various books. She recognized some of the covers and when he found her looking, he grabbed a copy.

"My sister loves _Alice in Wonderland_ – anything with fantasy, really," he told her. "I'm partial to Charles Dickens, myself. He's written the most amazing literature I've ever had the pleasure of reading. What about you? Do you have a favorite author – or just a novel, perhaps?"

Vanessa squirmed in her seat, looking out the window at the expansive Vanderbilt estate so she'd have an excuse not to look at him. How was she supposed to respond to his question when the truth was that she _couldn't read_ – that she had never been taught? Her mother was a practical woman and raised Vanessa and her sister to be practical girls.

There were more important things than reading, according to Gabriela Abrams, like survival for instance. And Vanessa had managed to survive quite well without reading – so well, in fact, that not even Nathaniel knew about her little shortcoming. And they had spent months traveling together – braving some of the most dangerous situations.

She sighed, biting her lip.

"Jane Austen," she told him.

"Oh, so you're a romantic are you?" he prodded, his lips quirking into a smile.

"Not exactly," she muttered.

"Which of her novels do you like best?"

"Well…"

"A friend gave me his copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ the other day. It was quite –"

"Daniel," she interrupted suddenly. "You're one of those honest, working types, right?" she asked him.

"I suppose so." He chuckled – although he didn't know what that had anything to do with the topic at hand…

"Then, I trust you won't tell Mr. Archibald if I let you in on a little secret?"

"I suppose – yes."

"Well…the truth is I can't read." She looked down at her tattered shoes. "There, I said it. And I don't know how you're going to react so I'm not going to look at you right away. But I want you to know that I'm an honest, hardworking-type – just like you. And that just because I'm…illiterate doesn't mean I'm stupid. I'm actually quite smart. And I'm an American, as you already well know so –"

"Miss Abrams," he interrupted. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I don't?"

He shook his head. "No one at the factory knew how to read. Heck, my father doesn't know how to read anything but music – to this very day."

"He…doesn't?"

He shook his head. "No. But that doesn't mean I love him any less."

She breathed out a sigh. "Good. I was a little worried there. You were starting to come off as one of those pseudo-intellectual, nose-in-the-air types."

"Nose-in-the-air?" His lips quirked at the phrase. Miss Abrams sure had a way with words.

"Just don't tell Mr. Archibald, alright? I'm not sure what he would think of me."

"He seems like a nice man – and if he's anything like he seems then he'll know how clever you are – cleverer than me, I'd imagine."

"Thank you," she grinned, flattered at the compliment. "But it's…complicated between Mr. Archibald and me."

"Say, I was wondering about that – and I bloody well couldn't figure it out – but how'd you two meet anyway?"

She laughed then. "We look strange don't we – a poor American girl and a rich Englishman?"

"A bit," he admitted sheepishly.

"We met in New York. He was looking for someone – a woman. I happened to know her – met her a while ago actually – so I helped him find her."

"But…if Mr. Archibald was looking for a woman in America, what's he doing here in England? And why did he bring you?"

"That's where the story gets complicated, Mr. Humphrey."

"You're very interesting people, you know?" Dan shook his head, the hint of a smile on his face.

"You don't know the half of it."

"I suppose after today I won't ever see you again?"

"If you're lucky then perhaps one day you will," she teased.

"Yeah…"

There came an awkward silence then – neither of them knowing what to say next. It seemed to be 'goodbye forever' – an 'au revoir' as the French said – for the two of them. Not that Vanessa was upset – she hardly knew him. Not to mention she had assumed he could be a murderer – _her_ murderer.

Still, Dan was a nice man – and refreshingly different from the men she knew back in New York.

"I could teach you to read, you know," he offered, breaking the quiet. "I'm a pretty good teacher. My father never wanted to learn but if you wanted to – that is, if you'd like, you can come by my apartment. Or I could swing by…wherever you're at?"

"Maybe – I'll have to think about it." She tried to hide the grin on her face. "I can't pay you, you know."

"That's alright. Your company will be enough for me."

"And I'm a slow learner."

"My sister tends to say that a lot about me."

She laughed then, shaking her head. "You're a peculiar man, Daniel Humphrey. And you have a very odd face."

"Odd?"

"Yes, but I rather like it. And I accept your proposal." She stuck her hand out.

"It's a deal, then." And they shook on it.

**A/N:**Review! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Preposterous!"

"You can't be serious, Nathaniel…"

Anne and Howard Archibald stood facing him – the weak figure of his mother looking surprisingly daunting to him at the moment. They had initially welcomed him with open arms. There had been tears of joy passed all around – from his feeble-bodied mother to his short-tempered father. But he knew – Nathaniel _knew_ it wouldn't last long.

And he'd be the one to bring about its end.

That was when he told them he'd gone and gotten himself an American wife.

The color had drained from both of their faces.

"Your grandfather would never agree to it," Mrs. Archibald warned – her voice soft as her husband helped her into a chair. There was no venom in her words – there never was. All his life, Nathaniel had only ever known his mother to be ill – never strong, never domineering like his grandfather. Vanderbilt blood ran thin for the Archibald's – his mother too weak, him too disinterested.

"You see what you've done to your mother," his father bit out. "First you break off your engagement with that Waldorf girl and now – now this _American girl_?"

"I'm right here, you know." Vanessa appeared then, Daniel in tow.

His mother gasped at the sight of her, grasping the arm of her chair for support. Nate could only imagine what was going through her mind – a nameless, penniless _American_ dressed in a plain frock and tattered shoes.

"_Her_?" his mother wheezed. "_She_ is to carry on the Vanderbilt legacy?"

"_She_ has a name, thank you very much," Vanessa huffed, hands on her hips as she addressed Nathaniel's mother. "And I'm not pregnant, if that's what you're thinking."

Horrified, his mother cried out – putting a hand over her forehead in distress. "Our only son!"

"I thought I told you to stay in the car," Nathaniel hissed. "_Both_ of you."

"You said a few minutes and it's been _hours_," Vanessa huffed. "Dan is hungry and I was getting impatient."

They talked over his mother's painful groans when finally his father spoke – boiling rage evident on his reddened face.

"I don't know who you think you are," his father roared, pointing a finger at the American. "But you will leave this home immediately! Before I have you _thrown out_!" He pointed at Dan next. "_Both of you_!"

"Hey now," Dan interrupted, waving his hands in mock surrender. "There's no need for –"

"You can't talk to me that way!" Vanessa shouted, addressing the elder Mr. Archibald. "Who do _you_ think _you_ are?"

And the shouting commenced. Amidst a flurry of finger-pointing, name-calling, and his mother's cries of woe in the background, Nathaniel began to feel a painful throb in his head. He took a step backward, trying his best to take control – to calm his father, to ease his mother's anxieties. He just – he didn't know – couldn't…

He only ever wanted what was best – all he ever wanted was to please his parents. But now…now he wanted them to know all the sacrifices he'd made – for _them_. He wanted them to know it was his turn now – his turn to live _his_ life.

But it was no use. The pain was mind-numbing and it seared right through his skull.

He took another step backward, voices echoing in and out his head.

Then…it felt as if his soul was being lifted out of his body – and he was looking through someone else's eyes.

And if he let his mind drift…

Nate saw those eyes were a cerulean blue – soft yet vibrant, alive and so, _so_ beautiful.

And if he let himself drift further, he could imagine long strands of gold with those shining cerulean eyes. Golden hair – brighter than the sunshine, that was never-ending and seemed to caress him everywhere, always.

And then it was _her_ – _her_hands that were caressing him, _her_lips that gently soothed the pain right out of him. With her, he never felt so healthy and so _strong_. _She is bright and she is golden. And all he wants to do for the rest of his life is to love her – to love her in their little cocoon of sunshine and cerulean and warm caresses._

But it wasn't easy. It's _isn't_ easy.

"_I love you."_

_Her voice cracks. "You can't."_

"_Let me love you." He's insistent._

"_I can't."_

– And the cocoon burst.

Nate groaned, rubbing his temples with the palm of his hand.

"Will everyone just _shut up_?" he shouted, sending a venomous glare to everyone in the room.

Everyone, even his mother, was silent then – watching Nathaniel with wide eyes.

"Now," he started, clearing his throat. "Miss Abrams – _Vanessa –_and I are married." He scanned the room, looking out at the different faces. His father's nostrils were flared and he was breathing hard. The corners of his mother's eyes were brimming with tears. Vanessa's face was curious, Daniel's a bit more anxious. "So I _am not_ marrying Georgina Sparks – or, for that matter, any other woman you deem suitable for the Vanderbilt ring."

He looked at Vanessa, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I've found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with." He nodded and she smiled back. "And that is something Grandfather can't do a thing about."

:::

They decided on a picnic for brunch.

Amongst Evelyn's roses, under warm sunshine and lazy afternoon setting, it was the perfect atmosphere.

And so the blankets were laid out and food placed neatly into baskets.

It was a small affair but Blair, for the life of her, couldn't help but nitpick and worry over every little thing.

After all, her parents were coming – visiting her in her new home. And while she wasn't too concerned about her father (he loved her unconditionally), Eleanor Waldorf was a completely different story. Bartholomew Bass was someone Blair could handle – Eleanor Waldorf, not so much.

And so she and Chuck had devised the perfect plan.

Blair would sit with Bartholomew and keep him company.

Chuck would sit with Eleanor and keep her company.

And neither of them would be burdened by their respective parent's endless scrutinizing and criticisms.

It was the perfect plan, Blair thought to herself. _If_ it worked, that is.

Unfortunately, her mother wasn't the only thing on Blair's list of concerns that morning. Serena had been feeling lackluster and depressed all day – and it was so unlike her best friend that Blair couldn't help but worry. She told herself that it was the pregnancy, though. It made sense.

The side-effects of Serena's _condition_ were endless – nausea in the morning, nausea in the afternoon, nausea in the evening. No wonder Serena was feeling so blue. Still, she couldn't have Serena putting a damper on the festivities. She needed to keep Eleanor happy – happy at _all_ costs.

"_Serena_!" Chuck and Eric both winced at Blair's shrill voice. "At least _try_ to smile. We don't want the guests figuring out your little…situation, do we?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Oh, you mean you haven't already told them yourself?" she asked bitterly.

"I apologized for that," Blair responded with a huff. "How many times do I have to repeat it? And I only told _my husband_, the person I am bound to by matrimony. You are the one who told Eric and you did it all by yourself."

"Only because you told Chuck!"

"I had to!"

And the ceaseless bickering began.

Eric groaned, resisting the childish urge to cover his ears. He turned to Chuck, giving him a pointed look. His step-brother only shrugged and walked towards the gardens where the blankets and baskets had been set out. Eric quickly followed after him – anything to get away from his sister-in-law and her best friend.

"I hate when they argue," Eric told him, a troubled look on his face.

"Yes," Chuck agreed. "It is rather…grating, isn't it? They're like a pair of squealing kittens."

"Kittens?" Eric remarked, amused.

"Learn this, Eric." Chuck clasped a hand around his shoulder. "Women are strange creatures and one should never get in the middle of their arguments. They can just as soon turn on _you_."

:::

Chuck watched the guests appear with his step-brother at his side. They had invited a few close family members and friends – Bartholomew Bass, Harold and Eleanor Waldorf, Marcus and Louisa Beaton, Joshua and Sophia Middleton…

Well…as close as one could get, he supposed.

He hadn't properly spoken to Serena for a number of days now. They would exchange a few formalities, greeting each other for the day, before going back to ignoring each other. The tension between them was unsettling but it would pass eventually, Chuck knew. And perhaps then everything would go back to the way it was. Of course, with a baby on the way, he wasn't sure what that supposed normalcy entailed.

Eric had taken the news exceptionally well, to Chuck and Blair's surprise. He hadn't asked about the father or worried about the future. Instead, he'd hugged his sister and asked about her well-being, her _health_. It was Eric's way – always the negotiator. His aim was to keep everyone happy, to avoid bringing trouble unto his family. It was a horrible burden but one that Eric felt was his duty to bear. He was the rational-minded one in the family. As such, he couldn't afford to throw tantrums or have any emotional outbursts. He had to be the sane one – always. He had to keep a level head.

Then there was Bart – the only (proper) father Serena and Eric had ever known.

He was still in the dark about Serena's pregnancy. In fact, the blonde wasn't sure she could _ever_ bring herself to tell him. And neither Chuck nor Blair would push her into doing so either – _especially_when it came to the Bass patriarch.

Bartholomew had been more than thrilled to see his step-daughter. And thrilled in Bass speak was just the slightest curve of the mouth and a quick, curt nod. Not that anyone expected him to cry tears of joy. It was the perfect response coming from one Bartholomew Bass. Despite his seriousness and coldness, he was the only father figure Serena and Eric had ever known – which was why Serena just couldn't tell him about her situation.

And so Serena donned on her little hat, sat between Eric and Blair, and pretended like nothing was the matter. She didn't cup her belly, like she'd been so prone to doing ever since she found out about her condition. She simply sat and ate and carried conversation like she was a simple (uncomplicated) English girl returning from a simple two-year stay abroad. And if anyone asked her about America, Serena would smile and nod and talk about the wonderful people, the wonderful places, and the wonderful things to do.

But if she let her mind drift, even just a little…she would imagine…strong arms. She would imagine wisps of ash blonde hair falling over _his_ forehead…and deep blue eyes that could _see right through her_. And it took her back to that night – that night with soft whimpers and low chuckling, flesh against flesh, her heart beating with in tune with his…

"Miss Van der Woodsen."

Serena blinked.

"Serena," Blair hissed, nudging the blonde with her elbow. "Lady Beaton is asking you something?"

"Oh! I – my thoughts get carried away from me sometimes…" She laughed nervously.

"That's quite alright," Louisa Beaton replied. "I was asking about your future prospects. You're at a marriageable age and you've traveled abroad – seen America. Now that you've returned, a single woman such as yourself must be in want of a good husband – to settle down?"

"I…I suppose I haven't really thought about it," Serena started.

"Come now!" Marcus spoke up. "Surely you jest. Isn't there a young man out there who catches your fancy?"

"I…"

Then it was Chuck's voice, cutting her off. "I believe your interrogation verges on impropriety, Lord Beaton."

"I agree," Blair quickly responded. "It's best that we pay heed to our _own_ affairs than that of others. Serena will marry when the time is right."

"Blair, dear," Eleanor spoke up, her expression married by slight confusion. "Lady Beaton is simply asking whether or not Serena has _thought_ about –"

"Mother, _please_." Blair sighed as an uncomfortable silence fell on them.

Serena bit her bottom lip, guiltily looking around at the small party – Blair and her mother were staring daggers at each other, Bartholomew looked as if he were trying to decipher a very complicated puzzle, and Louisa Beaton's cheeks were tinged pink. Then she felt Eric reach out and grab her gloved hand, squeezing it in reassurance. She smiled at her brother and suddenly felt the strength to speak again.

"Your question is well taken, Lady Beaton," Serena said, addressing the young woman. "To be honest, I have thought about marriage – what a good husband would bring. But here I am, with my brothers and my sister, and I couldn't be happier as if I _were_ married. As Lady Westbury pointed out, I will marry – when the time is right. And love – I will marry for love. That's all anyone could ever ask for, isn't it?"

:::

Jenny glanced out the window where the entire household was gathered for brunch. She let her gaze wander once or twice before she finally gave up the menial task of sweeping the kitchen floor. She could only watch, completely enthralled. It was a small window (literally) into the lives of the upper class. They could afford to park themselves down for an entire afternoon just for a _picnic_. Working class people couldn't afford that luxury.

Jenny herself couldn't imagine ever having the time to throw a frivolous picnic. She was always busy working, working, and _working_.

The sound of giggling interrupted her mid-thought and quickly she retreated from the window, pretending to be hard at work. She didn't look up when Hazel and Penelope neared but she knew from the voices it was them.

"Did you hear about the masquerade ball that Lady Westbury's throwing?" Penelope asked.

Of course, Jenny had heard about the ball – that _stupid_ ball. She had been in the room when Lady Westbury had come up with the idea and then dismissed the very notion that Jenny could attend.

"I may have heard something," she replied.

"Well, I imagine that it's going to be just spectacular," Penelope giggled.

Hazel nodded, twirling around the room as if she were dancing. "The clothes and the men and the dancing and, oh!" She smacked her lips. "The _food_. Think of all the food, Little Jenny."

"I'm interested in the men," Penelope said with a snort and a giggle. "I want to snatch one up for myself – a rich one, that is."

"You should be so lucky, you poor hag!" Hazel scoffed, interrupting her dance to address the other girl. "Only a chimney sweeper would marry you."

Penelope gasped in indignation. "You take that back Hazel Williams! If I marry a chimney sweeper, then you're marrying a shoe shiner – or worse."

"I don't care so long as I marry for _love_," the other girl haughtily responded.

"Fat lot that'll do you!"

The more the two girls bickered, the more and more Jenny found herself drifting off again. Hazel was right. Neither of them would marry a particularly wealthy man. They would marry a poverty-stricken idiot, claiming to love them, and then bear him eight children. Jenny could just gag at the awful thought.

"I decided we're going to the ball," Jenny declared suddenly, drawing both girls' attention. They looked at each other, raising an eyebrow before turning to the younger blonde.

"We're not invited, Little Jenny. We're maids – we _can't_ attend the ball," Hazel explained.

"Think about it Hazel. Lady Westbury will be so busy hosting and everyone will be wearing masks. How will they know it's us?" the blonde replied, grinning deviously. "We won't go as ourselves, of course. We'll create fake names and sneak in through the kitchen. We already have keys."

Hazel and Penelope exchanged a look before breaking out into smiles of their own. The two were already prone to and well-acquainted with wickedness.

"My, my, Little Jenny," Penelope started. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"But what will we wear?" Hazel asked, expression souring. "All the ladies will be in expensive gowns shipped from Paris. All I have in my closet is this drab old _thing_ my mother gave me."

"I can sew," Jenny offered. "We'll throw our money together and buy the fabric. I'll need your help, though."

"Sew _ourselves_?" Penelope raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry but that doesn't sound glamorous in the least."

"I'd rather stay home than be a laughingstock at the most important ball of the year," Hazel agreed.

"We won't," Jenny assured her. "It might not be as beautiful as the other ladies but no one will laugh at us. I assure you. And it will be an adventure. I've never been to a ball before, have you?"

The look exchanged between the two girls confirmed they hadn't.

"Oh, fine," Penelope sighed, smirking slightly.

"Me too," Hazel smiled.

She squealed, twirling around the room once more before throwing her arms around Jenny and squeezing her into a hug. Penelope giggled and Jenny found herself laughing right along with them. It truly was going to be an adventure – a magical night none of them would ever forget. That was for sure.

**A/N:** Finally! I wrote and re-wrote this chapter so many times. And I'm still not satisfied with it, LOL. But...ah, oh well. I hope _you_ guys liked it :D. And if you catch any spelling/grammatical errors let me know! Thanks! Also, reviews are helpful and encouraging :)


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